


Etching with Flames

by Magi_Silverwolf



Series: Shades of the Past [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Hufflepuff Rage, Implied/Reference Ideological Conflict, Manipulative Dumbledore, Other, Paganism, Pureblood Culture, Religious Conflict, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 05:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11502588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magi_Silverwolf/pseuds/Magi_Silverwolf
Summary: Alice LongbottomneeDoire never did anything by halves, just like the woman she claimed as a sister. Dumbledore should have never thought to take a Hufflepuff's child.





	Etching with Flames

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.
> 
> Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Due to this piece taking place in the same 'verse as _Circle of Runes_ & _Power Known Not_ , there is liberal use of pagan terms and imagery, including the implication of an ideological conflict between Christian and pagan funerary practices.
> 
> Author's Note(s): This piece was written for the Houses Competition on the FFN Forums
> 
> The Houses Competition Information:  
> House: Hufflepuff  
> Category: Short Story  
> Prompts: A Funeral; Hidden/Hiding  
> Word Count: 1437

-= LP =-

_Lines of Ogham_

Teaser: Etching with Flames

-= LP =-

“Every vice has its excuse ready.” – Publilius Syrus

-= LP =-

 

Alice did not cry. She did not need to, not when Danu Herself was weeping for her. Instead, Alice burned with all the consuming flames being denied her sister-in-magic. Potters burned their dead. It had been their tradition for centuries, a final protection against necromancy and an echo of the clay their ascendants once specialized in working. This burial was a travesty, but she forced herself to watch with a still tongue and dry eyes. She would not pile disruption upon this blatant disrespect for her fallen siblings.

 

This was a battle already lost; she just needed to focus on the greater war. This could be fixed—later, after the watcher finished his vigil, she and Frank could set this right. Lily and James deserved their rites more than Britannia deserved a place to visit their martyrs, regardless of Dumbledore’s stance on the matter. Let him think that he’s won; it will soften him for the blow that counted.

 

The Mother had warned her months ago and she had thought that she was well prepared for what needed to be done. Alice had known he was a threat, that he didn’t have their well-being as motivation.

 

Alice had _known_ and yet still he had managed to take Harry.

 

Her precious godson was missing—whisked away to a secret location by a man who had no right to take a child from his family. Harry had just lost his parents! He needed family, not strangers. She wanted to rage like the animal of her Hogwarts House, to rip Dumbledore apart for daring to take Lily’s cub. Alice _knew_ that Dumbledore must have taken him to that ungrateful zoilist. Why else would he have pushed an injunction against the execution of the Potters’ Wills, which Alice could attest forbade Harry being placed with _Petunia_?

 

The rain served to make the crowd thin quickly after Dumbledore finished his speech. Many would return to their celebrations. As if toasting an orphan was anywhere near appropriate behavior! It did not take long for the two of them to be the only ones at the gravesite. Frank had stayed at Thistlewood with Neville and Augusta, safely tucked under familial blood wards and Frank’s additions. It was where Harry should have been, if not for the man she had once respected as a leader and teacher. Now she could barely keep her expression neutral as she approached him to demand her sister’s son be returned.

 

“It is the greatest heartbreak of all when the old bury the young,” Dumbledore said once she was close enough for a normal volume. He sounded so tired, as if he were as soul-weary as his words indicated. Once she would have believed it. But the Mother was whispering secrets, though none were the location of her godson.

 

“There are those who would say that epithet is reserved for parents who bury a child,” she returned. Thankfully, she managed to make the words lack teeth. It was harder than she imagined it would be when she set out this morning. Without Lily on the other side of her magic, everything had been difficult. Before this, Alice had been the wood to Lily’s flame, but they had burned together for years and now her magic ached for its twin. It was a coal threatening to explode at every breeze. She needed to fulfill this quest; then she could begin to grieve. She just needed to have Harry tucked into bed beside Neville, both boys safe where she could guard against all potential threats.

 

“Lily and James were like my children as are all my students. You know this, Alice.”

 

“Perhaps it is a good thing that you never had children then.” The words were harder than was wise, but the anger needed to be vented lest she explode with it. _How dare he claim kinship when he ignores their wishes!_ The thought held the echo of her Mother’s hurt and rage. “You’ve done a fine job ignoring their every wish for after their deaths.”

 

“Miss Diore—“

 

“Lady Longbottom,” Alice corrected immediately. “If we are going to revert to titles, they should be the correct ones. Don’t you agree, Mr. Dumbledore?”

 

“Lady Longbottom,” Dumbledore agreed, looking like every syllable pained him. How it must gall the man to be reminded that no matter how many offices he held, he would never match the oldest families for rank. Good. She would make him pay for every inch of overstep he had made in this. “I apologize if you are upset about how I’ve handled their arrangements. I merely felt that you should not be bothered with such things while grieving for your friend.”

 

“I should be busy settling my son,” Alice snapped. Her magic crackled threateningly under her skin. Dumbledore took on an air of exhausted understanding. It may have soothed her nerves if he had not spoken.

 

“Of course, my dear girl, I understand completely. His name is Neville, wasn’t it? Well, I won’t take up any more of your time.” The aged wizard turned as if to leave.

 

“I was talking about Harry,” she said, regaining his attention. He turned back with a bemused expression but his sharp eyes were too measuring for the confusion to be real. “With Lily gone and Sirius in Azkaban, Harry becomes my responsibility.”

 

“You don’t have to worry about that, my dear,” Dumbledore replied. He sounded as if he meant that to be reassuring instead of the condescending it felt to her. “Young Harry is perfectly safe.”

 

“He belongs with family.”

 

“He is with the only family he has left.”

 

“You—oh, Mother of Mercy, you did,” Alice blurted. Her heart pounded as fear added fuel to the flames of her rage. Promises from the First of All be damned—physical safety was not the only thing that mattered. “You sent him to _Petunia_. Despite everything that woman did to Lily over the years, including disowning her, you gave a defenseless magical child to her. How _could_ you?”

 

“It is for the best—“

 

“That is not your decision to make.” Alice was done playing. This had gone far enough. She drew herself up to her full height, as little as there was, especially compared to Albus Dumbledore. She met his blue gaze with her own, deftly deflecting his subtle probe. “It’s mine. Now tell me, Albus Dumbledore, where is my son?”

 

“My dear girl, he is not your son.”

 

“My dear headmaster, you couldn’t be _more_ wrong.” She wanted to scream and claw at his smug face. How had Lily managed to control this swell of emotion? James was beyond blessed to have survived long enough for Lily to accept his courtship offer. “Lily Named me Harry’s godmother before the Mother of All. Even if she hadn’t, by exchanged blood and mutual vows, we were sisters in the eyes of Magic. As such, Harry’s closest relative is not the muggle who tossed his mother away like useless trash; it is me. _Where is my son_?”

 

“He needs to be protected—“

 

“He will be protected—by familial wards that already recognize him. I’m going to give you one more chance to do this the easy way. **_Where is my son_**?”

 

“I cannot tell you that, my dear. I hope you understand.”

 

“Better than you realize, Mr. Dumbledore,” she said. Nothing could hide the steel in her tone, far sharper than even a badger’s teeth. Apparently, Dumbledore had never paid attention to his history. Maybe he even believed what seemed to be the modern consensus on why Hufflepuffs stayed out of wars, stayed away from any battlefield of any type. Fools, the lot of them. It was time to remind them that nothing was more vicious than an enraged badger defending its sett and clan. “I want you to remember this moment. I want you to remember that you made a choice. You decided that you knew better than anyone else and be damned any other factors you may not have considered. I want you to remember this _exact moment_ , Albus Dumbledore, because I swear by my Mother that I will _destroy_ you. Do you understand?”

 

“There is no need for such hostility, Miss Diore.”

 

“You are keeping a son from his mother, a _traumatized child_ from his _family_. I think you will find that there is plenty of need for hostility.” Alice paused for just a single moment, still hoping that he would do the right thing. She took a deep breath as the silence steeled her resolve. She spoke four words before she twisted into the apparation. “And it’s Lady Longbottom.”


End file.
